coping
Life presents variables; learning how to cope in order to master, minimize, or tolerate what has come to pass.
Feeling Lost
Everyone I have encountered with in my whole life has felt lost in some way. Whether it be financially, academically, emotionally, etc. It’s a sucky feeling, but it’s bound to happen. If you’re feeling lost, or ever have, just know you’re not alone. I too have felt lost MANY times.
By Alyssa Baur7 years ago in Psyche
Progress, Not Perfection in the Cities
It all happens so fucking fast. One minute you’re swimming through a fiery field of frantic forever agos and the next minute, that memory has been paved over and turned into a parking lot of endless hopes and dreams and open ended anythings. Every thought you ever had of “I can’t” or “I’m not worthy of any shining star placed in front of me” suddenly bursts like an atomic explosion of a million diamonds dancing across Lake Calhoun as the blooming sun shines intently through every crested wave. I can see the surface now and I pray to god that I don’t get tangled in the weeds again. Because, while an escape from the reality of the shoreline can be freeing, you’ll eventually run out of energy and sink to the murky bottom trying to find where it was you were running to in the first place.
By Jordan Holt7 years ago in Psyche
Self-Confidence
I don't know when it started. I just know that I've always lacked self-confidence. For 29 years of my life, I've had this little girl inside of me who likes to hide in a corner and hope that no one sees her. She would love to be a butterfly, but she doesn't know how.
By Toni Velagic7 years ago in Psyche
Escapism and Mental Health
Escapism is defined by Merriam-Webster as "habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine," in this, we mean avoiding reality by submerging ourselves in a fictional world. They are many ways to do this, many forms of "imaginative activities" for some people it's video games, for others books, or television, movies, fanfiction, role-playing games, the list goes on. The one thing they have in common is that they take us out of our own lives and allow us to explore someone else's.
By Megan Paul7 years ago in Psyche
The Cost
Jane still felt like the new starter after six months in her job. Her lack of experience was telling when she began her work practice. Jane had spent her twenties cleaning various hotel bedrooms around her region always moving on to find better work conditions. Now approaching her forties Jane had through a bereavement, undertaken voluntary work in the Samaritan organisation to give back to them, a thank you, for their support when she was grieving. After which she went to college to study to become a trained counsellor.
By Lesley Anne Armour7 years ago in Psyche
The Little Tremors Before the Quake
Something happens to me when I watch crime drama. I’ve always been a fan of all things dark and spooky — crime mystery fits nicely into that. It hits a sweet spot in my interests John Milton called divinest melancholy. It’s also a warning sign I’m falling into depression.
By Lynne Rush7 years ago in Psyche
Thoughts During Mental Health Day
When I was six I was diagnosed with GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) and OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), among a few other three letter abbreviated thingamabobs that played a background role to the two things above. I’ve always been hesitant to talk about my mental illnesses, not from shame, but from the fear (ha, fear, that’s ironic) that it could be used against me. That some evil doer out there somewhere could use it against me. However, as I got older I came to realize that living in fear, in any way, is a way of living I can’t afford.
By Sierra Hicks7 years ago in Psyche
It's Only Energy
As I sat amid one of the darkest and most painful experiences of my life, trying to create some sense of normalcy out of anything at all, I put a piece of jewelry in my mouth and bit down to close the clasp. Suddenly, I gasped in mortification at a crunching sound and my inner critic barked out obscenities at me inside my head which sent me into floods of tears—I’d broken off my front teeth! It occurred to me for the very first time in my life that maybe teeth were not supposed to be used as pliers at all and I wondered in awe how I’d never recognised that fact before but such was my horror and I was in such a dark place inside, all I could do with any of it right then was shame myself and hate myself even more. I had no resources to do anything any differently and my neural networks were conditioned for criticism, shaming, nastiness, abuse, and self-loathing—it’s all I’d ever known by the age of thirty five. I was an exemplary student for the teachers I’d had in those lessons and I had Mastered the art well. Being kind, gentle, and loving to myself was a complete mystery to me then, and I was afraid of anyone else who didn’t abuse me too, often avoiding anyone who seemed "nice." I was sure that if I went near "nice" people, they’d see my "stains" or that something dark about me would infect them. Here I was finally sitting with someone "nice" and allowing them in and I broke my smile! The last minuscule speck of self-respect I had been holding onto shattered along with my front teeth in that moment and I surrendered all pretense at sanity right there and then, it was the final straw for me after months of humiliation, tragedy, and losses. I truly felt as if I had nothing left to be and it would be another 12 years before I would recognise the gift of that night at all.
By Gabriella Grace7 years ago in Psyche
Mental Health and Me
It’s hard to talk about mental health, especially on a platform as scrutinised as the internet, without legitimising your stance with a prologue of your own personal mental health issues. Therefore, I hope my story is enough to qualify my two cents on the matter. If not, I beg forgiveness and, without a hint of irony or sarcasm (as my tone of writing often suggests), apologise for the insensitivity.
By The Naughty Christian7 years ago in Psyche
I'll Never Start by Saying "Dear Diary"
The first time I studied poetry was in sixth grade, when I wasn’t that mentally fucked up. Even then- I had a ball with it. I learned about limericks, haikus, poetry that’s the words formed into an image (which is pretty damn cool), and I had several assignments that were simply “write poetry about whatever you want.” This was how my foot got in the door.
By Elijah James7 years ago in Psyche
